Dreams of Angels
by Kameka
Summary: Challenge Response to: “Song Challenge pick a song and write a prose or poetry about it. Include the song lyrics. Two patients meet in the hallways of Rittenhouse Hospital. Reviews are welcome!


**Title: Dreams of Angels**

**Disclaimers: Not mine.**

**Notes: Was actually a challenge response, but thought it might fit here, too. Song is at the end but is not included within the story itself.**

**Summary: P&D Challenge Response to: "****Song Challenge - pick a song and write a prose or poetry about it. Include the song lyrics." Two patients meet in the hallways of the hospital. Reviews are Welcome!**

written on 4/18

She came here before every appointment with her doctor, sneaking away while her husband was busy parking the car in the over-crowded parking lot. He didn't know that this is where she went; he thought she went to the rest room, the gift shop, or even the flowered walking path the hospital maintained for both patients and doctors. Sometimes, she started to go to one of those places, swearing to herself that this would be the time she wouldn't come here and she wouldn't start the day by torturing herself by what may never be.

She always ended up here in the end, though; her nose virtually pressed against the glass window in a scene reminiscent of small children outside pet-and-toy-store displays. Her nice, neat business suits and even her moneyed casual clothing was wildly out of place in this hall, the majority of the crowd in ill-fitting hospital gowns and robes or wrinkled street clothing testament to a night with no sleep. Even as she looked at the pale couples, the dark circles under their eyes and uncombed hair… she envied them. They had something she didn't have, but desperately wanted.

Ever since she was a little girl, she'd wanted to be a mother. It wasn't an unusual dream. What little girl didn't dream of being Mommy at some point during their life? But hers had never changed. She'd never wanted to be a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, an astronaut, or even a princess. She knew those things were important and the right choices for someone… just not her. Sure, her original dream had expanded slightly: instead of just wanted to be a mother, she'd wanted to meet a good man and be his wife. She'd wanted to be there for him, take care of him, support him, have his children.

When she was twelve, she met her Prince Charming. He was seventeen when he moved in next door after his parents died and didn't know she was alive. He'd absolutely hated it there, working hard to graduate high school early to get away and start his life over on his own terms. His only acknowledgement to the worshipful little girl next door was a derisive, sarcastic greeting, the same as any teenager when dealing with what they considered an inconsequential child. But that hadn't mattered. Her heart had belonged to him from the moment she'd seen him carrying a box up the porch steps.

It had taken her fifteen years and a few boyfriends in between, but she had married him.

Now if only the next part of her dream would come as easily as the first.

She lifted a hand and placed it on the cool glass before her, imagining that she was touching a warm, downy cheek instead. Her arms ached from the lack of weight in them and she abruptly crossed them in front of her chest in an effort to assuage it.

"Which one's yours?"

The question made her turn and frown slightly at the cinnamon-skinned woman who asked it. "None of them," she answered honestly, though it hurt her throat to say the words.

"One of them belong to a relative? A friend?"

"No," she answered shortly, still stinging from the original question.

The woman backed up a single step, taken aback from the abrupt answer. Wariness flooded her whiskey-colored eyes as her mind tried to figure out why a stronger with no baby would be here on the maternity ward.

Suddenly aware of the scrutiny she was receiving, she turned and shrugged slightly with one shoulder, gesturing to the lined up bassinets and the nurses floating from one to the other in answer to the cries and what was needed. "I just had to see them. I'm not a kidnapper."

The gown-clad woman nodded in sudden acceptance as she looked into china blue eyes for a brief moment, the gaze clouded with mingled hope, pain, and fears. "You're trying?"

She nodded. "I have an appointment downstairs. I just…"

"You keep getting drawn here, to remind yourself what you're putting yourself through hell for," the woman summed up easily. At the slightly shocked look, she shrugged. "It was playgrounds for me. I'd go there and spend hours watching the kids playing with each other, each one so alive, so curious. I used to watch the mothers and babysitters sitting on the benches chatting with each other and wondering if they knew how lucky they were for the gifts they were given."

"They are," was the assertion. "Same way you know."

"And the same way you will," was the answer, said through a smile.

"Which one's yours?"

"The little girl, second row in, third from the left."

It was the only child not crying, eyelids half closed, as she just lay there, oblivious to the chaos surrounding her. "She's beautiful."

The woman almost said something and then stopped before shaking her head. "Don't leave, okay?" She left herself, disappearing down a small side corridor and appearing in the room they had both been watching.

She turned as a shaft of pain filled her at the way the woman waited at the door with a smile before accepting the pink-wrapped bundle into her arms. The sudden glow that came across her features made it obvious of the love she felt. She did move, but she didn't go far: merely sinking down onto one of the benches that lined the linoleum-tiled hallway. She had just barely sat down before the woman came over, carrying her daughter. She was stunned, and the shock showed on her face as the woman bent down slightly and placed the bundle in stiffly raised arms. "I don't…" she trailed off, looking down at the precious face, a slightly pink rosebud mouth opening into a perfect 'O' of a yawn as impossibly dark eyes blinked once, twice, and then closed.

"Sometimes people need more than to just _see_ what they're working toward."

"Thank you," she murmured without taking her gaze off the baby she was holding. She could feel the woman sitting down next to her on the bench, but her entire focus was on the bundle in her arms. A manicured finger trailed down the baby's cheek and it was just as downy soft as she had always imagined it was in her dreams. The baby squirmed slightly and one star-shaped had somehow extricated itself from the blanket and grasped onto her finger, the grip unbelievably tight coming from such a small thing. She began to hum as she rocked slightly, maternal instincts coming to the fore as she soothed the baby into sleep once again, smiling as the gentle, reflexive sucking motions grew slower and then stopped.

The moment was broken by the melodic ring of a nearby cell phone and she grimaced. "My husband is looking for me." She shifted the baby back to her mother, her arms once again feeling unbearably empty to her. This time, though, it was an ache for real instead of just one from her imagination.

Standing up and straightening her skirt, she looked down at the dark head bent over the bundle. She touched the woman's shoulder slightly and smiled when she looked up. "Thank you. You make sure you take care of that angel, all right?"

"I will," the mother vowed as the woman trailed her finger down the warm cheek once more.

With another nod, squaring her shoulders as she walked off to what she hoped would be one of the last doctor's appointments with bad news, she realized that she'd never even exchanged names with the mother. She had no idea who she was, no way to get in touch with her in the future. Shrugging, she decided that she didn't need to; the woman had helped her, reaffirmed her purpose and why she was fighting so hard. It was enough.

Stepping off the elevator, she smiled at her husband, pacing worriedly by the receptionists' desk. Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Everything's fine," she told him, looking into the dark eyes. She took a deep breath and turned to the dark-skinned receptionist. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"No problem. You can go right in."

"Honey, are you sure…" Her husband's question was stopped by the gentle pressure of her finger on his lips.

"Everything's fine," she reiterated. "Let's go see about us having an angel of our own, okay?"

"An angel?"

Laughing, she pulled him into the doctor's office behind her, her resolve firmed. She would have her dream. Nothing was going to stop that. And her first baby would be a little girl named Angel.

(end)

Reviews are Welcome!!!

These are the lyrics to Angel's Lullaby. It's not a "real" song, meaning it's not on any album (Yet. Lots of people have emailed her site asking where to get a copy, so it may be put on one eventually.) Reba Hart (Reba McEntire) sang it to her granddaughter on the season 1 finale of the sitcom _Reba_.

Midnight moonlight shining through the curtain lace

Paints a perfect picture on your perfect face

One sweet angel sleeping in my arms

You are the promise I knew God would keep

You are the gift that makes my world complete

And you'll never know how much I love you

But I'll keep on telling you my whole life through

Now I believe in miracles and you're the reason why

So dream on while I sing you my angel's lullaby


End file.
